


It's Never Sunny on Argelius

by tprillahfiction



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Attempted Rape, Drugged Sex (attempted), K/S Advent 2010, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a christmas shoreleave on Argelius, Kirk is drugged in an attempted sexual assault.  Spock rescues him but the drug has left Kirk extremely horny.  Originally written for ks advent 2010 on lj.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Never Sunny on Argelius

"Come on," the other whispered, begged of him. There was a pleading look in those hazel eyes, making the man appear much younger. It transitioned into an unmistakably hungry look, something the Vulcan had never witnessed before on that face. "Nobody's watching. I just... want to taste you. Touch you. Just for a minute..." The other was already pulling down the zipper. Already dipping a finger into the waistband of Spock's Starfleet issue underwear. Already rubbing a finger along his length. The length was responding, most obediently, to the touch.

But now was not the time... for this... and the man was in no condition to-- surely would not mean to do this if he was in his right mind. Would not really want this. Not with him. "Wait...you cannot..."

But there was already a warm mouth latched onto him. In the bitter cold of this Argelian winter, surrounded by thick fog, the mouth was like a furnace. Spock could not help but experience an immediate spike of arousal, grunting as he felt his organ expanding under the ministrations. He tilted his head back, resting it onto the brick wall in the alleyway--the faux lined hood of his coat had slipped down, and the cool of the wall seeped right in to his skull, in through his hair--the conflicting cold and warm sensations being most remarkable. Arousing. He found himself stroking the face gently as the mouth took him in deeply, insistently working him.

He'd never experienced a man performing fellatio on him before. He never imagined he would do so for the first time, in an alleyway, partially visible to any passersby. Never thought he would ever be fellated by Jim Kirk.

He needed to stop this. should stop it...but in only seconds his captain...Jim had him gasping. "Oh...oh...Elaii'th--"

"Spock...Spock? What are you...what are... you doing?"

Spock blinked himself back to reality at the faltering voice--his captain.

They were...in trouble. Ah…of course! They were meant to be hurrying down the pavement to the beam out coordinates. Jim could not walk unaided, had to be supported. Spock had his hand around Kirk's waist, Jim's arm was slung around Spock's shoulders.

Nothing like fellatio in an alleyway had actually occurred. Spock had been simply hallucinating. Fascinating. It, the sexual act, had felt--seemed real.

Spock felt down at his waist, found and tore out his communicator, snapping it open with a flick of the wrist so strong, so rapid, surely he had pulled a muscle. No matter. "Spock to Enterprise. Two to beam up. Immediately."

He needed to get them off this planet, now.

. . .

Hours earlier...

"Updated schedule for your signature, Captain." On the bridge, Commander Spock handed over the PADD to his CO.

"Updated?" Kirk wondered. "Why is it updated? Was there an error?"

Spock grimaced at the assumption that he could possibly make any sort of an error. "Negative. Lt. Reyes simply made a last minute request to switch with Mr. Chekov."

"And you allowed it?" Kirk smiled as he regarded the Vulcan. Spock was normally a stickler for adhering to the Shoreleave schedule. He seemed to take a sort of Vulcan pride in the planning and the seamless execution of leave rotations that would best maintain the Enterprise's maximum efficiency while in 'Skeleton Status'. If Vulcan's would admit to experiencing any sort of pride.

"Affirmative," Spock replied, reluctantly. To her credit, Lt. Reyes had given a compelling argument as to why she and the Alpha Shift navigator should swap. At first Spock had been insistent upon adhering to the original schedule. However she had blocked his egress from the turbo-lift to the corridor. Her display of emotion heightening. He daresay the lieutenant would not let him depart unless he agreed to her demands. So, he found himself capitulating for reasons of crew morale. "The Lieutenant had... mentioned there being a musical concert for one night only. Tonight. Additionally, unbeknownst to me, I had scheduled her…boyfriend… on the first leave rotation,"

"Well, how were you supposed to know she's dating Keven Riley."

"Indeed."

"So now they can go to the concert together. Aw....You old softy," Kirk teased.

"Old?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

Kirk shook his head and gave a small tired smile as he perused the rest of the names on the PADD, scanning absentmindedly until he did a double take. "Hey...it looks like Dr. McCoy and I are now in the first group."

Spock nodded. "That would be correct, sir."

"Well. You did some last minute shuffling around."

"Perhaps."

"Keep you up all night?"

Spock looked at Kirk. "I do not require much sleep."

"Guess not. So...uh...Why did you schedule myself and McCoy so early?"

"I decided--"

"You decided?"

"I surmised that you both would benefit. You and the doctor appear tired."

"You're right about that," Kirk agreed. "I am tired. I can't speak for the doctor--although he has been crabby lately."

"Dr. McCoy is always 'crabby'," Spock replied.

"I'm gonna tell him you said that," Kirk teased. Spock tilted his head at him.

"Well..." Jim said, sighing. "I'm sure Bones will be thrilled. I suppose foggy old Argelius is as good as any to spend the Christmas season--I mean, it IS a planet, isn't it?"

"I am assuming your query is rhetorical."

"Oh, it is. At least there‘s solid ground to walk on. Argelius. The planet of hedonism. They'll be lots of scantily clad girls to gape at. Bones'll like that."

"And you."

"What?"

"You will also enjoy looking at the scantily clad females," Spock informed him.

"I suppose so." Jim seemed downtrodden or saddened, oddly, at that very moment, though Spock could not ascertain why. "Well...some new scenery for a change, besides all these stars. Haven't been down to Argelius in awhile."

"That is the location where we had the… difficulty with Mr. Scott...The Prefect's wife was murdered by Redjac--"

"Shit. Don't remind me." Kirk grimaced at that profound understatement: 'difficulty'. It had taken Jim Kirk one standard month to rid himself of those nightmares from the planet Argelius, where they had discovered 'Redjac' aka 'Jack the Ripper'. "That WAS this Argelius, wasn't it. Great. "

"Affirmative."

Jim sighed. "Alright fine. There won't be any 'Redjac' or 'Jack the Ripper' or whoever, right? A few drinks on the planet's surface with Bones won't hurt. Then when the whole ship is back on board in three days, we'll have that Christmas party. I'm looking forward to the mulled wine, the decorations, the secret Santa gift exchange, the...artificial tree..." Jim looked down at the PADD once again. "God...I miss...REAL Christmas trees."

"Jim, I am aware that you are disappointed that we are not orbiting Earth for your holidays--"

"No, Spock...it's alright." Kirk waved that off. "Don't Vulcan's have any holidays that occur right around this time?"

"No festivals at this time, no. But...my mother is Jewish, so she is inclined to celebrate Earth Chanukah."

Jim smiled, he liked it when he discovered something new about his first officer. "I like how you say it."

"You like how I...say what?"

"‘Chanukah‘. The way you said the word, was kinda--never mind."

"Did I not pronounce 'Chanukah' correctly?"

"No no...the way you said the 'C' and the 'H' together...it's just cute."

"Cute?" Spock scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Fascinating."

"Well...don't you miss lighting the menorah with your mother around this time? Playing dreidel?"

"How did you know I have played dreidel?"

"I just...assumed Mr. Spock. Can't celebrate Chanukah without playing...can you?"

Spock turned to face the viewscreen. "Ah." On his last occasion of playing the ancient human game, he was really much too young to partake of the chocolate coins. He won many. The game was, understandably... cutthroat. Young Vulcans, while purporting to be logical, were immensely competitive to say the least. By the end of the game, Spock had managed to consume quite a large number of the chocolate coins, becoming highly intoxicated, before his father had forcibly removed them from his possession. He was sent straight to bed, and Father had had words with Mother.

And yes, he missed lighting the menorah with Mother very much so.

"Hey, Spock?"

"Captain?"

"Why don't you...beam down with me and Bones?"

"I am not in the first group to beam down," Spock protested.

"But you ARE taking a shoreleave."

Spock hesitated. "No. I am not." Sitting in a bar, most likely a striptease bar in a seedy part of town, watching Jim Kirk and Dr. McCoy imbibing in copious amounts of alcohol was quite frankly an undesirable way to pass an evening. He would not mind spending more time with Jim, but he would rather be engaged in playing chess or having a quiet conversation. One could do neither in an Argelian tavern. "As you know it is not necessary for me--"

Kirk leaned over and whispered conspiratorially: "Why not add yourself to the first group, huh?"

"Captain," Spock said. "That would increase the number--"

"So? You do have someone who’s capable of relieving your post."

"Ensign Greenberg."

"Oh good. He needs the experience. Come on...I won't tell anybody." Kirk glanced around the skeleton crewed bridge. Nobody appeared to be listening to them. Mr. Chekov was off in his own little world.

"Captain, if Mr. Greenberg serves as relief of the science/library station, I would most certainly experience a delay in joining you. I must extensively instruct him on the re-calibrations of my sensors."

"You have to do that now? Well, how long's that gonna take?"

"It might take awhile," Spock admitted.

"Awhile? That’s not very precise of you. I’m rather surprised at you, Mr. Spock."

"My apologies," Spock said, tightly. "I am afraid I cannot make an accurate--"

"You know what I think? I think you're giving me the brush off. A convenient excuse, Mr. Spock."

Spock stood up to his full height. "I beg your pardon, Sir."

"Fine. Duly noted. You don't want to go. That's fine. Just be me and Bones. Fine with me. Take the conn why don't you. Have fun." Kirk pouted theatrically, rose from the command seat and with an exaggerated flourish, waved Spock into the chair. "Knock yourself out."

Spock sat down primly in the command chair, determined not to give Jim the reaction the man was so obviously dearly desirous of. Jim had done nothing but tease him mercilessly this shift. "Captain."

. . .

The bar was crowded with on-lookers, all entranced at the events occurring on-stage. This was a rowdy, vocal audience, with lots of flashing of table lights, an Argelian custom as opposed to Earth style ’clapping’ to demonstrate approval. Kirk made himself at home in one of the many red velvet lined booths lining the walls, plenty of pillows to go around. Bones would know to come looking for him here. They'd hit this place on several previous occasions. Each time Argelius had been cold and foggy and damp, just like this evening. Except tonight was the added pleasure of dirty snow covering the streets. Never knew the planet to be sunny and warm, not like Earth.

The on-stage 'strip tease artiste' was dancing seductively, as strippers often do. Actually, he'd never seen a stripper not be seductive. He chuckled a little at the thought of an un-seductive stripper.

He called the barmaid over, the girl clad only in pink heart shaped pasties and a tiny red bikini bottom. Must really save on closet space.

"What'll it be, sexy?" she asked.

"Saurian Brandy." He passed his credit chip over.

"We're having a special on 'Mood Drinks' this evening. Half off. Interested?"

The Argelian Mood Drinks were a popular one in nearly every bar in town. The drink was served in several layers. Each layer was a different color, putting the drinker into a corresponding artificial 'mood'. Yes, it was class A drug use on the Universal scale, the drink possessing an opiate type substance. Perhaps if Bones were here--he might be tempted into one-- but Bones wasn't, and he didn't know exactly what was in those damned things anyway to want to chance anything. (Bones would have his head on a platter.)

"No thanks," he told the girl. "Just a regular old Saurian Brandy."

"Suit yourself. You look a little lonely," she said.

"Not for long," he replied. "I'm waiting for a friend."

"Oh...alrighty then." She sauntered off, presumably to fetch his drink.

He sighed and watched the stage. Hurry up, Bones.

. . .

Spock entered the sickbay to find the Enterprise Chief Medical Officer brandishing a re-gen device, snarling a: "Goddammit!" frowning over a young, sandy haired patient.

"Dr. McCoy."

McCoy, still engrossed in his task, did not look up. "Spock."

"You have not yet beamed down to the planet's surface."

"That's mighty observant of you, Mr. Spock. No wonder you're the science officer."

"We have Dr. M'Benga on staff." Spock inclined his head towards the patient. "I suggest you utilize him and immediately begin your shore leave."

"Can't. I let M'Benga beam down in my stead. Geoffery wanted to see some Christmas play going on down there, I thought I’d let him go, take care of this myself. I'll just be a little late meeting Jim. Connor's got a broken femur here. What kind of an idiot falls out of a Jeffrey's Tube, anyhow?"

Doped up to the gills with painkillers, Connors bellowed out a cheerful: "Hiya, Mr Spock!"

"Dr. McCoy. This is entirely against regulation. You did not notify me of any change in shoreleave schedule."

"Sorry. Been kinda busy down here."

"I've was busy too," Connors said balefully. "Then I fell."

"Since you were due to join the captain at 20:00 hours, according to my scanner, he is currently unaccompanied," Spock informed McCoy.

"Fruitcake," Connors interrupted them. You know what, Mr. Spock? Nurse Chapel told me I'm nuttier than a fruitcake. Did you know there's really only one fruitcake in existence in the entire universe? For Christmas, everyone just sends the same exact fruitcake back and forth to each other every year." He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "I find that really, really upsetting."

McCoy rolled his own eyes. "Jim told me it would be alright if I was late, he was going to beam down with you."

"Did he? He did not inform me as such. When did he tell you this?"

"Right before..." McCoy cleared his throat. "Dammit. Right before he left, I thought that's what he'd said. Maybe I was mistaken. It's been a little--" He glared at Connors who was now giving them a loud, off key rendition of 'Silent Night'. "It's been a little hectic around here--"

"I shall contact the Captain and notify him that he must immediately rendezvous with another member of the crew."

"Like who?"

"Perhaps Mr. Scott can be persuaded or Dr. M'Benga. Jim should not be alone."

"Argelius," Connors said brightly, suddenly abandoning his caroling. "My shoreleave starts tomorrow at 08:00. Bright and early. Think I'll be okay by then, Doc?"

"Well," McCoy said, sighing. "Let's not panic. Jim should be alright down there for awhile. What could possibly happen to him on Argelius?"

Spock gave McCoy a pointed look.

"There's lots and lots and lots of bars on Argelius...and I know a place," Connors went on, "where the women are--"

"Shut up, Connors!" McCoy chewed on the side of his cheek as he regarded Spock, thoughtfully. "Argelius, hmmph. Come to think of it, Scotty definitely won't beam down. I'd hate to have to bounce Geoffery out of the performance--"

"Doctor."

"Fine." McCoy scowled. "You're absolutely right, Spock. Jim shouldn’t be alone. Not even for a little while. It's Christmas soon, he'll be pounding down those crazy Argelian mood drinks."

"I wish I had an Argelian mood drink right now," Connors informed nobody in particular. "And an Argelian."

"Somebody's gotta listen to Jim moan about being away from Earth on Christmas, drag his drunk ass back to recuperate in some sort of bed. Better be one of us, then some stripper," McCoy added.

"Stripper?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"A girl who dances, takes off her clothes," Connors offered, helpfully. "For money. Huge tits, too."

"Why don't you head on down there, Spock? I'm gonna be a little while with this idiot."

"My responsibilities as first officer lie on board the Enter--"

"Stop being such a stubborn ass. Give the comm over to Scotty," McCoy hissed, then added in a soft, slight sing-song-y voice: "The captain... really wants to be... with you."

"Why does the captain want to be with Mr. Spock? Is there something going on betwe--" Connors immediately fell unconscious and McCoy slammed down the hypo onto a metal table.

"Thank you," Spock quipped, before McCoy grabbed his arm.

"Listen you green blooded elf. Beam down. Surprise him. Go on. Be the best pointy eared Christmas present ever. Christmas already sucks for him enough this year. You two have been doin' the: 'I like you but I'm too goddamned proud so I'm not gonna tell you I like you so I'm just gonna flirt with you on the bridge and stare at your ass when I think nobody's lookin' and create a cloud of major unresolved sexual tension you could slice though with a knife, for God knows how long', two step. And quite frankly I'm getting fucking sick of watchin' this pathetic performance of yours."

Spock yanked his arm away from McCoy's grasp. "I do not know what you are talking about, Dr. McCoy."

"The hell you don't." The doctor waved him off in disgust. "Go on, now. Git!"

"I am not scheduled for leave. You are."

"So switch it around. You can do that. You're in charge of the goddamned leave assignments!"

"I cannot--"

"It's too bad I can't make this a medical order--oh wait, I can. I'm certain there's something fascinating I could cite. I got it!" McCoy pointed triumphantly in the direction of the upper bulkhead. "Overwork of the Enterprise's first officer necessitating an emergency shore leave--you know--because he's been more than a little testy lately--"

"Duly noted, Dr. McCoy." Spock nodded curtly, turned on his heel.

"And wear a coat for crying out loud! It's cold down there," McCoy yelled after him. "Don't feel like defrosting a fucking Vulcan ice cube. I'm goin' nuts playing nursemaid to you two. Next thing you know, I'll be talkin' to myself."

. . .

Jim was nursing brandy number two, when a tall slender form slid very neatly into the booth.

Bones. Finally.

He was about to mutter "about fucking time" when he glanced up. It wasn't Bones.

"Hi," the stranger said.

Jim took a tiny sip from his brandy. "Evenin'," he said, politely.

"Saw you from over there." The man pointed where he'd come from.

"Did you?"

"Uh huh. Starfleet?"

"Yep," Jim replied.

"Oh, that's nice." The man stared at Jim in a way that made him feel more than a little uncomfortable, from the intensity of the blue eyes, a lot different to McCoy's electric, yet kindly eyes. The stranger's eyes were more like steely grey. Cold hearted. Hungry. (Hurry up, Bones.) Jim's hand slid down to check on his type I phaser and communicator. "How'bout I buy you a drink?" the stranger asked. "What're you havin'? An 'Argelian Mood Drink'? Or two?"

"No, thank you," Jim replied. "I'm waiting for a friend."

"Sure you are. Why don't you let me buy you that drink, Sailor? There's a room in back...we could have more privacy...uh...if you were--"

"I'm not interested. And I'm waiting for a friend. I think I see him," Kirk said tightly. "Excuse me." He stood up and walked away from the table and the stranger.

. . .

The fog was customarily heavy as Spock materialized into the small Argelian town of Kandoor. The town was built in a late 19th Century Earth Mediterranean style as was most of the planet save for a few ultra modern tourist style districts. Kandoor was far off the beaten track and the similarities to old Earth were quite remarkable with its cobblestone streets, wooden terraces, brick buildings, the attire of the natives. It being winter the dampness of the night's air was only within tolerable limits. Spock tightened the hood of his coat. A thick layer of snow covered much of the sidewalk.

Every so often, a native-- a patron of one of the many bars or restaurants-- became visible though the fog, smoking on a veranda, utilizing a hookah. The lamps along the street appeared to genuine oil lamps, beautiful, but considerably deficient in casting adequate illumination. One could barely see more than a metre ahead. It was a strain to discern the signage on any buildings until he was right on top of them.

. . .

Kirk approached the bartender who's attention was directed towards the activity on the small burlesque stage. "Excuse me," he said. The bartender, shirtless, but for a too-small-for-him vest, fastened with a metallic cord, was, of course, oblivious to him. "Excuse me," he said a little louder.

"That way," the bartender pointed, not even bothering to look up.

. . .

Argelian bars, as per planetary custom, were for the most part shielded from any beam in or out. There was no real explanation for this in Spock's mind, other than to curtail anyone intending not to pay their bar tab. He had ascertained Jim’s exact coordinates before leaving the ship, so there was no need to bring along a tri-corder. This was to be a social call and as McCoy had mused, what possibly could happen? Though as was standard procedure he'd armed himself with a small type I phaser, invisible under his coat.

. . .

He'll pee and leave. This sojourn was proving to be a bust anyway. No Bones and no Spock. He'd been hoping Spock would change his mind and waited for either of them long enough. Bones probably had a last minute emergency he just couldn't hand over to M'Benga.

No communicator signal in here, not the safest thing in the universe. Too many creeps in this establishment to hang out here alone much longer. He'd only had two drinks. Wasn't even close to buzzed. He'll end the night shipboard with Bones, where he belonged. Bones had a better stock of booze than this shithole anyway.

The bathroom was in reasonable shape, not too smelly, was deserted as he trudged over to what sufficed as the urinals on this godforsaken planet and thumbed out his dick.

He let out a soft groan as the pee flowed out. He tilted his head back. Hadn't realized he'd had to go so badly. After what seemed like an eternity, he finished, stuffing himself back into his Starfleet issue underpants.

He hadn't even gotten the zipper back up yet on his trousers, when he felt the sting of a hypo at his neck.

. . .

Spock halted in front of a building with a sign proclaiming itself: ‘The Kit Kat Bar’ Ah. Mr. Scott had mentioned this place. Even on the outside it appeared to be the diciest drinking establishment in town. Of course. No doubt the captain had been expecting Dr. McCoy to join him. Both were quite fond of questionable taverns such as these.

Now to enter and locate the captain and perhaps convince the man to move on to a better locale. There was a decidedly upscale restaurant Mr. Scott had helpfully pointed out on the scanner. Certainly the proprietors would serve adequate selections of spirits and Jim might be persuaded to patronize that establishment.

The Kit Kat Bar was noisy and crowded inside, as was to be expected. There was some type of ‘entertainment’ taking place on the stage, what looked to be a striptease act. Lights flashed on tables operated by the audience presumably in appreciation of what was occurring on stage, many hungry eyes were fixated towards the girl. Spock paused to watch only for a moment to satisfy his inherent curiosity. What was she about to do with that Earth snake? Oh…

He quickly turned away, pulled back the hood of his coat in this relative warmth, and began his search for the captain, inspecting the numerous occupied red velvet pillows then the contents of each and every private booth.

Unsuccessful in his search, he made his way though the crowd over to the bartender.

. . .

The stranger's hard cock was poking into the cleft of his ass, it felt so good even through his trousers. The strangers hands were around his waist, moving down to caress his hardening cock. Jim couldn't think of anything else except the man's warm hand on his dick-- wanting to be free of the confining fabric of these pants, wanting the feeling the stranger's big cock sliding deep into his ass. He spread his legs apart, leaned his head back. He wanted to help. He started to pull down his trousers and underwear in one go. Wanted to feel the stretch of that first lubed finger inside him.

"Not here..." the man whispered. "There's a fun room in the back, just for me and you."

"Oh...yeah," Jim whispered. "Gonna fuck me in there?"

"Uh huh. Nice and hard."

In the back of Jim's mind he had a thought that this wasn't right, something wasn't at all right about this. He shouldn't want this--not with this man--not this man-- but the touch of this stranger felt so good, his body couldn't help but respond tenfold--he wanted Spock inside him--ohmygodIwantSpock...but THIS man was going to be inside him, right now for the first time. The idea terrified him, this man was the wrong man! but he couldn’t stop it.

Wherever the guy was going to take him, he would follow.

. . .

"Pardon me," Spock said, making his presence known.

"Yeah?" The bartender appeared annoyed to have been torn away from his lavicious viewing of the stage.

"I am looking for a gentleman--"

"Yeah, ain‘t we all, buddy."

"I meant, have you by any chance seen a man, mid thirties, in a gold Starfleet uniform--"

"Depends. What's your poison?"

"Poison? To imbibe in poison would be illogical... and rather fatal," Spock said.

"Drink, idiot. What'll it be?"

"I do not drink alcohol."

"How sad for you. We have a selection of non-alcoholic drinks for those unfortunate teetotalers, too."

"I see. Then, I shall have an Altair Water."

The bartender poured the drink into a glass then placed it in front of Spock on top of a real paper napkin. "That’ll be eighteen fifty."

"Rather expensive for Altair Water," Spock retorted.

The bartender shrugged. "Want the info or not?"

"Fascinating. Highway robbery."

With a single finger, Spock slid over the credit chip and the bartender ran it. "Your boyfriend was headed towards the 'gents'." The man pointed the way. "You do know what the 'gent's' is, right?"

The bartender went back to watching the stage. Spock refrained from debating semantics, 'boyfriend indeed'. He drank his water in one gulp, set the empty glass down delicately, picked up his chip and strode very elegantly on his way.

. . .

Jim turned around in the man's grasp, moved to nuzzle the man's neck as the man was sliding his hand down his waistband, grabbing onto his length. if Jim couldn't stop it, somehow he couldn't bring himself to, maybe he could pretend it was Spock, soon it would be over and he could go...

. . .

Spock entered the Men's restroom. It was deserted save for a few patrons milling about at the urinal. Jim was not here. Perhaps he had already left the establishment? There were no doors on the toilet stalls, so he was able to investigate each and every one.

He ultimately decided to ask one of the patrons: "Have you seen a man wearing a gold Starfleet tunic?"

Miraculously the man nodded and pointed to an anteroom in the rear of the toilets. "In there."

Jim was not alone in there, however.

Jim...was engaged in a rather intimate version of a human style kiss with another humanoid. A man, whom, Spock did not know. The sight of this coupling, was shocking. It stirred up something in his mind...something primal. He knew he definitely did not relish the sight of Jim intimate with another. Never knew Jim to be physically intimate with another male. Obviously, Jim had met another. Somehow... it should have been him...wanted it to be him...but obviously Jim did not want him, rather Jim appeared to want this man.

Spock prepared to turn and leave them be in peace, until he heard his captain softly cry out: "Spock...Spock...help..."

Immediately, Spock lunged over to the strange attacker. He placed his fingers at the junction of the neck and shoulder and promptly felled the man.

. . .

"The fuck happened to you two?" McCoy demanded as soon as Spock entered the sickbay with his captain in tow.

Spock appeared unusually flustered and disheveled as he plunked Jim Kirk down onto a biobed. He placed himself next to the captain-- who stayed put quite meekly, the man lolling his head-- and sighed, looking down at the deck.

"Hi there, space cowboy!" McCoy was speaking loudly to the captain, snapping his fingers in front of the man's eyes, obviously becoming all too aware of his condition.

"Hi, Bones!" Jim replied, equally loudly, smiling.

"Look at you. You're as high as a Goddamned kite. Dammit, you were only down there a couple'a hours at the most." McCoy had his type II scanner out-- indeed the device never entirely went back on the shelf. It whirled loudly as it scanned. "Oh...Jesus H. Christ."

Jim was, by now, leaning his face into Spock's hair, breathing deeply. "You smell so good," he whispered. "Like shampoo."

Spock stiffly allowed the physical contact in front of the CMO, but did not respond to it, ignoring McCoy's questioning eyebrow. "What is it, Doctor?"

"Chorohexatydroxinate. Good ol' CHD."

"I am unfamiliar--"

"Somebody must have slipped our dear captain a mickey. Was it you?"

Spock gave McCoy a warning glance. "Drugged. I surmised as much."

"His arousal levels are through the roof. Did you discover the culprit?"

"Indeed. I did the only thing I could. Nerve pinch. And we were requested to leave the premises."

"Slimeball's protected there. Anything goes. They always claim no crime happens there. Hedonistic capital of the galaxy, well, besides Wrigley's," McCoy said, properly disgusted.

"I am well aware of that."

"Dammit. I should have been down there with him. I let him go off on his own for a couple of hours, and this is what happens," McCoy said with a groan.

As if on cue, Jim planted a kiss on Spock's cheek, then another, then another, then moved to suck on a pointed ear.

"Awww," McCoy said, rolling his eyes at this blatant display. "Look what you've got on your hands, Spock-- wait a minute. You got to him in time, right? McCoy suddenly had a panicky look as he ran the scanner over the captain's entire body. "Well, that's a relief, no stranger's managed to have their wicked way with him...but he's...uh...he's uh..."

"What, Doctor?"

"I came in my pants," Kirk whispered, giggling madly.

McCoy ran a hand though his hair. "Thanks Jim. I was attempting to preserve your remaining shred of dignity, but now that's all shot to hell." He sighed. "Do me a favor, Spock. Take him to his quarters. Throw him in the shower. Get him cleaned up. Put his jammies on him. Tuck him into bed and make him stay there. Don't fuck him. I'd stay with him myself 'cept i'm too tired to fend off a horny starship captain all night long."

"I was not going to, as you say: 'fuck him', Doctor."

"Didn't say you were. Just--"

"Doctor. Are there some sort of pheromones in this drug?"

"What...are you worried about it affecting you too? It shouldn't, why?"

Spock shook his head, the fellatio in the alleyway simply had to have been a hallucination, nothing more. "What about an antidote?" he asked as Jim resumed licking his ear.

"What? No. There's no known antidote. It just needs to run though his system, that's all. He'll fall asleep eventually." McCoy stared for a moment. "I can't believe you're just letting him do that."

"It appears to placate him."

"Aren't your ears an extremely sensitive Vulcan erogenous zone?"

"It is. However I can control my own reactions."

"Good luck, Spock."

. . .

Transporting the captain back to his quarters was easy enough. Though drugged, Jim was easily maneuverable, if not subdued, and did not attempt to initiate any possible embarrassing physical contact while walking through the corridors of his ship.

As soon as the doors swooshed shut, enclosing them both safely into the confines of the captain's cabin, it was another story. Spock had to constantly remove Jim's hands from his body. It was if he was magnetized and Jim was a hapless slab of metal. He constantly had to remove Jim's mouth from his own. The man's tongue immediately sliding into his mouth on each occasion.

Three times, he had given a heartfelt request for Jim to desist this level of physical contact and please retire immediately into the fresher to take a shower. Jim however, did not do as asked.

"Hmmm," Jim said, nuzzling Spock's neck, running a hand along his face, moving it up, tracing the slant of his eyebrow, running his fingers though and mussing Spock's hair. "Soft..."

Actually, in all honesty, a part of Spock's anatomy was threatening to betray him and become something other than 'soft'. Something of which must not happen. He immediately backed away, tightly holding onto Jim's wrists, keeping the man at bay. "Jim, get ready for bed."

Jim smiled, deviously. "Sure."

"Not like that," Spock said. "Please, Jim...will you... will you take a shower?" This night was going to prove to be difficult--keeping matters in control-- because Spock knew very well, while Jim was extremely persistent at the moment, none of this sexual attraction was in fact, real. While another might have, indeed they almost had taken advantage of him in this condition, Spock was not about to let that occur.

. . .

Eventually he'd had to disrobe Jim himself. He pointedly ignored the man's erection as he shoved the naked captain into the shower stall.

Jim suddenly requested: "Water, not sonics."

"Certainly." Spock reset the controls for him. "Please wash yourself and be brief." However, this was also not the case, as Jim leaned his head forward in the water stream and immediately began to masturbate. "Jim," he warned.

"Can't help it..." Jim whispered. "Need you...to help me. Please."

Jim's tone was so mournful, so plaintive that Spock found himself going along with it. He eventually shed his own uniform and entered the shower as well. He soaped up the man expertly, holding him from behind, keeping perfect control, working quickly, methodically, avoiding any genital areas.

"Spock...please," Jim begged. "Can't stand it anymore... need you inside me..."

"As you wish, Jim..." Spock replied as all control vanished. He might as well give the man what he so dearly wanted, even if it was wrong. He picked up the container of soap, lubricated his fingers, began working one finger, then another, finding the bundle of nerves in the anus, hearing Jim moan...

"So glad...you know what to do...know how...to take care of me...baby..." Jim murmured.

"Yes," Spock said, biting down on Jim's shoulder. He could not wait any longer, he soaped up his organ and entered the human roughly. "Yes..." became a cry out as pumped into the man, then emptied his seed deep inside--

"Spock?"

As Spock came back to himself, he realized he was standing outside of the shower stall, fully clothed. He had been hallucinating again. "Jim?"

Jim palmed the shower to 'off'. "You okay?"

"Yes...I..." He swallowed. "I believe I shall wait for you outside the fresher."

"Alright," came the quiet reply.

. . .

There must have been some sort of pheromones present in the drug. Perhaps McCoy had been mistaken, perhaps the drug only affected Vulcans in this way. For during the night, before Jim had finally dropped off to sleep, Spock found himself hallucinating having sexual activity with Jim three more times.

He had not planned on dozing off next to the man--he was determined to stay awake and watch over him--but these hallucinations had profoundly exhausted him.

Each hallucination had felt so vivid, so real and he was beginning to wonder if in fact he had actually engaged in those acts. If he had, he could never forgive his own impropriety. He was contemplating it one moment then the next moment his eyes opened and Dr. McCoy was hovering over him with the type II scanner.

"Spock," McCoy said gently and the Vulcan immediately sat up on his elbows. "It's alright. Jim's over it. I sedated him. You can go to your own quarters now. Looks like you need some more sleep, yourself. I put you on one day medical leave. Got dark circles under your eyes."

He found he did not wish to argue with the good doctor. He immediately rose to his feet and exited.

. . .

Shore leave ended for all ship's complement without any other incidents on Argelius.

The Enterprise was still in the planet's orbit as the crew commenced the shipboard Christmas Festivities. There was a giant metallic Christmas Tree located in the main Rec Room, that all had gathered around, a monstrosity that Dr. McCoy had compared to: "The Poseidon Adventure".

"Well," McCoy quipped. "If we ever capsize, we know what to do."

"What?" Jim asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I bet you've never seen that vid, have you, Jim."

"I don't know. Fill me in, Bones."

"They climb up this huge metal tree, Jim. To escape the ballroom, when their Goddamned ocean sailing ship, the "Poseidon" capsized," McCoy told him impatiently. "Still no clue, Jim?" he said to the captain's blank look. "That's like the best movie, ever."

"If you say so, Bones," Jim said, sadly.

Jim was equally glum throughout the gift exchange, the music program, the dance. McCoy assumed it was due to the fact that he missed being with his family: his mother and his nephew during the holidays. Jim had a little bit too much spiked eggnog to drink. McCoy had noticed but said not a word about how much booze Jim had ingested, how many calories he'd had, and simply took the captain back to his quarters and put him to bed.

But missing his family was not the only thing making Jim so unhappy. As soon as McCoy tucked him in, gave him an ‘anti-ol’ hypo, and he started to sober up, he wanted to know: "Why is Spock avoiding me?"

"As if I know."

"Liar. You said you know everything that occurs on board this ship."

"Pfft," Bones scoffed. "I never said that."

"Bones," Jim warned.

"Jim. Do you remember anything of what happened while you were on Argelius? Anything that happened afterwards? Maybe that has something to do with it."

"No. I remember being in the 'Kit Kat Bar's' mensroom, then waking up on board the Enterprise. That's it."

"You are one lucky mother fucker you know that?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, first of all, Spock saved you from getting raped in that bar."

"No, he didn't. He didn't even beam down."

"Bullshit," McCoy replied. "He found you. Drugged up to the gills. Horny as hell from it, about to get, you know--reamed--then he brought you back on board, then took care of you all night long. I showed up to your cabin the next morning, to check on you and he was curled up next to you. Protectively."

"Oh..."

"He's been uh...controlling a great deal lately...so I think he feels some guilt about what occurred. Though, getting the hobgoblin to admit to anything..." McCoy raised up his hands. "Hey, where the hell are you going?"

"Guess." Jim didn't even bother dressing in his uniform, before exiting his quarters, but remained in his pajamas as the first officer's abode was right around the corner.

. . .

Spock sat in a padmasana (lotus pose), perfectly balenced on his smooth black meditation stone, clad in only his black robe. He had-- through many hours of deep concentration working though contemplation of the body, contemplation of feelings, contemplation of the mind and dhammas--sinking to the deepest levels--had he managed to ascertain that the drug Jim had been given had not in fact contained any pheromones, per se.

Spock's 'hallucinations' were simply that. The acts had not really occurred, though they had felt so vividly real. It was simply Spock's own latent desires that had been brought to the surface and magnified by Jim's... drug induced ones.

Now that the drug had run it's course though Jim's system. It was up to Spock to let go of these feelings of sexual attraction. He contemplated the fading of lust. It would not be possible to have a working relationship, nor friendship with the man, otherwise. Though Jim teased and flirted a great deal, Spock now knew it was simply how the man behaved generally towards others. Namely McCoy, who had claimed there was some attraction between Jim and Spock. McCoy had obviously been incorrect in his assumption.

He had just risen back up to contemplation of his breath-- the lightest level-- when his door chimed. It took him a few moments before he was able to say: "Come."

The door swooshed open to admit his CO. "Captain," he said stiffly, rising up in respect for the man.

"Evening, Spock. Sorry, it's so late." Jim wouldn't look at him. The captain studied the deck, the watcher statue, the drapery, the 3-D chess set on the ledge.

"Quite all right, sir," Spock replied, formally.

There was a long, awkward silence between them as they stood there, before Jim coughed into his fist. "Uh...I came here... to uh...apologize...for my behavior."

Ah, yes. The confirmation of his own conclusions that he had been waiting for. "Captain, you do not need to--"

"Yes, I uh...and...uh..." Jim would still not look at him. "I wanted to uh...thank you, for… Who knows what would have happened, if...uh...you hadn't beamed down?"

Spock nodded. It did not need to be said that he knew fully well what would have happened.

More awkward silence.

"Well," Jim eventually said. Gulping. "Good night, Spock."

"Good night, Jim."

Jim was about to turn to go, but stopped. He appeared to take a deep breath before he finally met Spock's eyes.

Spock had dearly hoped Jim had not just seen him lick his own lips slightly, a mistake that would not happen again. Should not happen again if he was to--

"Oh, Spock," Jim breathed.

He pulled the Vulcan to him and claimed his mouth with all the passion he could muster.

Spock broke away, reluctantly. "Jim…are you certain of this?"

"You mean…am I drugged again?" Jim laughed. "No. This is all me. I’ve been wanting this…you…for ages. That drug only heightened what I’d felt for you. What do you say, Spock? Want to give this a whirl?"

"Nothing would please me more, Jim’," Spock replied, smiling.

The kisses only got deeper, more passionate as they moved the proceedings to the bed.

________________________________  
fin


End file.
